


Last Friend

by vogue91



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Blindfolds, Fear, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Rape, Revenge, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 20:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15178493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: He heard his own breath.Heavy, impossibly fast.Nothing else.The blindfold over his eyes prevented him from seeing what was going on around him, but it didn’t take much imagination to picture it.





	Last Friend

_Kei felt nervous._

_He didn’t know why._

_He had stayed at the faculty until late that night, and he was getting back home._

_He had gotten off the train in a rush, without managing to stop looking around._

_It was almost eleven, and there was barely a soul around. It wasn’t the first time he got back late, but that night he had a weird feeling._

_All he wanted was to reach his apartment, close himself up and getting rid of that tension, apparently lacking any real motivation._

_Once reached the building’s front door, he took out his keys and got in, closing it behind his back and sighing in relief, smiling for that unjustified anxiety._

_He patiently waited for the elevator, when he heard a noise behind him._

_Then he couldn’t see anything anymore._

~

 

He heard his own breath.

Heavy, impossibly fast.

Nothing else.

The blindfold over his eyes prevented him from seeing what was going on around him, but it didn’t take much imagination to picture it.

Whomever it was that had assailed him in the hall, had done his math. He had covered his eyes right away, pointing a knife to his back, preventing him from fighting back.

Guided by his hands, he had reached his apartment’s door and had opened it, while his mind ran to every possible solution, trying to find a way to escape without getting hurt, but it was impossible.

The stranger had made him walk to the kitchen, pushing him against the table and tying his wrists to its legs with what Kei identified as a rope, not too thick but resistant enough to make it impossible for him to get free.

He was trapped.

For a few minutes the other hadn't done anything to him, and Inoo had almost started to hope he had left.

A hope that was disappointed the moment he felt something cold touch that portion of skin on his stomach left bare by his shirt; he tried to wiggle out of it, but a hand kept him still while the knife went up under the fabric, tearing it, leaving his chest naked.

The assailant then put the knife down and started caressing his skin, going down to his groin, undoing his belt and quickly taking his pants off of him.

He started touching him again, and Kei tried to focus on those hands.

Did he know them?

He had been blindfolded, and there had to be a reason why.

As much as he tried though, he couldn’t put a face to that touch.

He focused on the details but there was nothing definite, nor he could think about it for too long; tension was too high, fear impaired his judgement.

He could just lay still, waiting for it to be over.

He felt two fingers inch inside of him, brutal, and he couldn’t hold back a scream. He bit his lip, trying to distract himself from the pain of the sudden intrusion, and he had almost gotten used to it when he felt at the same time a third finger getting inside and the blade brush his chest.

He held his breath, feeling his eyes start to water without him being able to do anything to prevent that, while the knife ran down his skin, digging softly into it, enough to make him bleed.

“Please...” he said among tears, receiving no answer.

At the second cut, while the stranger’s fingers got even deeper inside of him, he was sobbing.

He didn’t care about his pride, he didn’t care if seeing him cry gave more or less satisfaction to whom was doing this to him.

He just wanted him to be done, as soon as possible.

The knife went on the floor again, then the man got on top of him.

He could feel his cock against his leg, while his lips met his chest, licking the blood away, and he couldn’t help wincing.

He shivered, cried, groaned, but nothing seemed to change anything.

The assailant was taking his sweet time, aware that no one was going to arrive to interrupt him.

And Kei kept wondering why, he kept wondering if that choice was causal, or if he was a specifically chosen victim.

That man seemed to know his schedule and that there wasn’t going to be anyone home waiting for him.

How many people knew?

Inoo clenched his fists, while the train of his thoughts was interrupted by a stabbing pain, and the feeling of the other’s cock pushing inside of him, merciless, as if sex was secondary to the mere inflicting pain on him.

He tried to keep still, quiet, to avoid crying, but as much as he tried he couldn’t.

He felt the stranger’s hands on him, he felt that body moving inside, he felt that breath on his skin, his smell in his nostrils.

His smell...

It was familiar, somehow.

He couldn’t pinpoint it, he couldn’t remember when he had smelled it before, but he knew it.

It didn’t matter though, nor right now.

He wanted the pain to end, he wanted that man to leave, to get out of him, to have some mercy on him.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept thrusting, moving, hurting him, as if time had stopped, and he had decided to use him like the object Kei felt he was; he was going to keep using him until he felt like it, without having to worry about nothing and no one.

He was confident; and that confidence terrified Kei way more than the feeling of that unknown body moving inside his own.

He wished he could’ve looked at the time, to count the minutes passing, to be able to wish that every second of that torture could’ve been the last.

It must’ve been around midnight, but it could’ve been later, and he wouldn’t have known.

Because he had had to surrender to the fact that that night had no limitation, and the man on top of him seemed to be well aware of that.

In the end, after what had felt like an eternity, he heard him groan loud, before spilling inside of him.

He felt his cum down his thighs when the other pulled out of him, and he gagged.

But that didn’t concern him either; he kept waiting, breathless, hoping that once gotten what he wanted the stranger would’ve left, that he would've gotten out the door brining away his scent and the memories of that damn night.

A few minutes later, Kei felt his hand brush his face.

It was almost... affectionate. Gentle, loving, as if he hadn't just forced himself on him.

That, more than the rest, made him feel miserable.

Then the man left, and when Inoo heard the door slam he felt like screaming.

But he was tired, too much to do anything at all.

He leant against the table, his wrists and ankles hurting, but he didn’t care.

And he didn’t care for anyone to find him either, for someone to untie him, to save him.

He didn’t want to be saved. There was nothing he wanted.

He just wanted to close his eyes because he had decided to do so, and get out of the spiral of that night which was never going to end.

 

~

 

It had been two weeks.

Kei wished he could’ve said he had forgotten. He wished he could’ve said he didn’t have marks on his skin anymore, that he didn’t have any memory, that he had managed to erase the signs of that night.

It was impossible, and he knew that.

Daiki had gone to his place next morning, worried for the fact that Kei hadn't picked up his phone for a while.

He had used his copy of the keys to get in when he hadn't come to the door.

Kei hadn't asked what he had thought when he had found him laying on that table, naked, tied, soiled with blood and cum. Abandoned, like used merchandise.

Daiki had screamed.

He had untied him, covered him.

Hugged him, and Kei had pulled away from that touch, like a scared animal.

He didn’t want anybody to touch him.

They had told him to go to the police, to report what had happened, but he hadn't wanted to hear about it.

He kept believing that if it had been anyone else in his place he would’ve suggested the same thing, but he couldn’t.

He didn’t want to think back to that night. He didn’t want to be forced to tell what had happened. He didn’t want to burn even further in his mind the details of those hands touching him, violating him, soiling him.

There was nothing he wanted to do but close himself up in his pain and wait for it to end, still knowing that it was never going to happen.

The others had tried, in any possible way.

Yuya, Daiki, Chinen, Yabu, Hikaru.

They tried to never leave him alone.

They talked to him as if nothing had happened, they ignored his silence and his apathy, they always tried to suggest something to do, and they never gave up in front of his complete lack of interest.

And Kei wanted to scream, every single moment he spent with them.

He want to yell at them to go away, to leave him alone, that there was nothing they could do. That he didn’t want them there, that he didn’t want anybody.

But, still, he didn’t have the strength to do it.

Every night he looked at himself in the mirror, he looked at the long wounds crossing his chest and hips, he looked at the marks on wrists where his skin was scraped, and every night he wished he could’ve ended his life, that suffering, to erase once and for all the thoughts in his head.

To drive away the remnants of that endless night that he kept living over and over again in his mind.

But he couldn’t do that either.

He wished he could’ve cried for himself, but that wasn’t allowed.

 

~

 

_The man breathed in deeply, looking at himself in the mirror._

_He smiled._

_He thought about Kei, about his body lying under his own, his face disfigured by fear, the feeling of his skin under his nails._

_He let his hand slip lower, until it met his cock._

_It was uncontrollable. Every time he thought about it, every time he recalled that night, he got aroused._

_He tightened his hand around himself, starting to stroke it fast, rolling his head back and closing his eyes, losing himself in the pictures in his head._

_Kei, naked._

_Kei, hurt._

_Kei, crying._

_Kei around his body, that warmth gripping him in an unbearable vice, a feeling he was never going to forget, that he_ didn’t want _to forget._

_Kei, abandoned on that table, alone, destroyed._

_That thought, having indelibly marked him, turned him on more than anything._

_He spilled on his hand, imagining it was Kei’s body._

_A few seconds later he opened his eyes, staring at the reflection in the mirror again._

_He smiled._

~

 

“Kei, we need to talk.”

The younger raised his eyes on Kota, emotionless.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t deem it necessary. He knew that, whatever the other had to say, it wasn’t necessary for him to take part in the conversation.

He kept looking at him, at least granting him his attention.

“I'm worried, Kei.” Yabu murmured, his expression grave, sitting down on the couch next to him and looking at him. “I want to do something, I want... I want to help you understand what’s happened.” he went on, biting on his lip.

Inoo arched an eyebrow, shrugging.

“There’s nothing to understand, Kota. We both know what’s happened to me, don’t we? I don’t see why we should talk about it any further.” he said, pretending a detachment he couldn’t actually feel.

“Yes there is, because you’re not fine, Kei. You don’t do anything, you barely talk to us, you barely get out of home... you’re not moving on. I wish you could at least try to do something. To remember. To tell me if there’s something you want to talk about, if there is... if you remember details which could make you understand who...”

Kei stood up, screaming and bringing his hands to his head, nervous.

“Understand what, Kota? Understand who it was?” he yelled. “And what use would that have? Do you really think it’d make me feel better to know, that it’d make me go on?” he seemed to calm down and when he went on his voice was lower. “I won’t feel better, I won’t move on. And I really wish you could all just leave me be.” he said, finally saying it out loud.

Then he seemed to think about it and arched an eyebrow, puzzled.

“And why are you coming here telling me I should try and understand who it was? Why would you think is someone I know?” he asked, feeling his breathing get faster, as if he was afraid of hearing his answer.

Kota stood up as well, slowly getting close to him.

Cautious, he put a hand on his shoulder, with the same care one would’ve used on a hurt animal.

“Because I'm worried about you, Kei. Because I’ve seen something that...” he sighed, brushing a hand over his face. “Please, Kei, just think about it. Think if there’s something you remember, even one little familiar detail.” he asked then, almost begging.

Inoo hesitated.

What had he seen?

What was he suspecting?

He thought about his friends, the same friends who had been close to him these past weeks, those who had offered him a shoulder to cry on, those who had taken care of him.

Was his assailant really among them?

He thought about that night, and it wasn’t too hard.

It was anchored to his mind, it haunted him, as if it was still going on.

He thought about that scent, the discomfort he had felt thinking he knew who he was.

What if Yabu was right?

“What did you see, Kota? What do you think you...” he asked, pausing, feeling unable to go further.

The elder sighed, shaking his head. Then he got closer to Kei, wrapping his arms around him, holding him, caressing his head, as if trying to protect him.

“You’re the one who has to remember, Kei.” he murmured, and the younger thought he sounded as if it was torture for Kota having to force him to do so.

He thought about it, restlessly, unconcerned with the pain it caused to relieve those moments.

There was that scent in the air.

It was there while that man touched him, it was there while he pushed inside of him, it was there while he caressed his face and left.

And it was there next morning, when he had woken up. When the door had opened and...

Kei felt he was about to faint.

His knees gave out and he fell on the ground, Yabu’s arms barely keeping him up.

He kept thinking, but it was clearer now, and his assailant’s face had assumed features it didn’t have before, and that he really wished he could've taken off of him, because he refused to accept something like that to be real.

“Dai-chan?” he murmured, low.

He raised his eyes on Kota, begging, as if asking for him to tell him he was crazy, that it was impossible, that Daiki would've never done something like that to him.

But the elder’s face was like a mask of ice.

“I'm sorry, Kei.” he told him, helping him back up and then to sit on the couch. He hugged him, again, letting him hide his face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t worry. I'm here with you, I’ll always be. I’ll take care of you, I... I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Kei cradled himself in those words and in that embrace, while he got hit by the bitter taste of a reality he couldn’t accept.

He wanted to trust Yabu and the thought that he was really going to take care of everything, that he was going to protect him, but that didn’t change anything.

And finally, after all this time, he burst into tears.

 

~

 

It had been a month since Daiki’s death.

Kei hadn't asked any question, nor he had gotten surprised when they had told him they had found his lifeless body inside his apartment.

Sleeping pills, they had said.

Suicide, perhaps.

Kei knew it wasn’t like that, and he hadn't said a thing.

He had looked at Yabu with gratitude that day, and he had felt a little lighter without that weight on his chest, without being afraid something was going to happen to him, the terror that that door could've opened and he would've been put through that hell all over again.

That night was finally over.

Kota had slowly sneaked inside his life, and Kei had completely entrusted himself to him.

It seemed he owed it to him, somehow. And when he was with him, he almost felt good again.

He had let the elder touch him, kiss him, have sex with him, while his life started to look normal again, a slow but constant process.

Nightmares had become less persistent and scars were fading, even though he was aware of the fact that neither was ever going to go away permanently.

That night he had woken up startled, after a too much vivid dream, too painful.

He sighed, brushing a hand over his face and looking around, as if he wanted to make sure Kota was still there.

Smiling briefly, he looked at his boyfriend sleeping, sprawled out on the bed, his mouth open and his breathing heavy.

He leant over him, pressing himself hard against him, resting his face on his naked chest.

He was hit by a sudden image and he opened his eyes wide, sure it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

He turned toward him, his face again against his skin, breathing in deeply.

And again, he jumped up.

He felt his heart rate grow faster, while he was taken again by a terror he had thought had been repressed.

He thought about Daiki and looked at Yabu, as if their faces overlapped, as if he had just realized he didn’t know the man sleeping next to him.

That scent...

That cursed night was never going to meet its end.


End file.
